


Bottoms Up

by gettingby



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Canon Compliant, Communication, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Fluff, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Canon, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29776191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingby/pseuds/gettingby
Summary: “What if we compromise? You can drink from me - but you don’t actually have to do it. I’ll do all the work.” I wrap Baz’s hand around my index finger and lift it to his lips. “All you have to do is sit back, relax, and let your fangs drop. I’ll just nick my finger. It’ll be barely anything, to start.”
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 14
Kudos: 110





	Bottoms Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first smut I ever wrote, circa April 2020, but I was way too embarrassed to post it because there were like, 2 biting fics that I could find in the fandom. So anyway, bless you monsterfuckers and enjoy.

SIMON

“It’s just self care, Baz. Accept yourself! Let your freak flag fly!”

“Snow, we’re not talking about stretch marks and cellulite. We’re talking about my desire to murder human beings and drink their blood.”

Baz and I ought to be more discreet, but honestly, this is far from the strangest argument you’d overhear in a Shoreditch bar, especially after everyone’s gotten sloshed on a Friday night.

“Blood is just something you need to survive. You should hear Agatha talk about her friends in LA. They refuse to eat anything. Do you want to be like them? Always guilty about eating?”

Baz rolls his eyes. “If anyone should feel guilty, it’s you, for drinking that disgusting light beer.” He sips his sugary mixed drink pointedly, as if that’s any better. “And I don’t feel guilty for drinking blood, in general. I’d just prefer not to drink yours.”

I knock my head against his shoulder and give him my best puppy-dog eyes. “You’d prefer not to drink my blood?”

He elbows me away. “You know what I mean.”

“What I know is that you want to. And you need to. I know you’re a dramatic, self-sacrificing git, but-”

Baz grabs my hand and drags me out of the bar and into the crisp autumn night. In the lamplight, he seems a lot more sober.

He’s wearing a flowy silk button down, green with purple flowers, with only a couple of buttons done up. His jeans are black, with an artful rip in the knee that I love rubbing his skin through. (When he bought them, I made fun of him for paying £200 when I’d gotten ripped trousers for free in care. _I’m not snogging you if you make comments that sound like my father,_ he replied.)

Baz’s eyes are stormy. “Snow. You’ve been trying to wear me down.”

“Yeah, and?”

We’ve been fighting about this for the better part of a year. In my defense, Baz is definitely anaemic, or whatever the vampire equivalent is. He drinks more nutritious blood now, and takes vitamins, but it’s still not enough. He’s skinny and pale even compared to other vampires, and it’s only become more apparent in our mid-twenties.

“I don’t think I can. I do want to.” He scrunches his eyes closed even though he’s admitted it before. “I want to, but I can’t. I won’t lean over and bite you, no matter how much I feel the urge to. It’s just too…”

“Scary?”

At that, Baz huffs. “For you, maybe.”

“What if we compromise? You can drink from me - but you don’t actually have to do it. I’ll do all the work.” I wrap Baz’s hand around my index finger and lift it to his lips. “All you have to do is sit back, relax, and let your fangs drop. I’ll just nick my finger. It’ll be barely anything, to start.”

Baz’s lips part slightly into a soft gasp. I keep teasing, running my finger along his lips. “Please, Baz? For me?”

Abruptly, he jerks away from me and starts tapping on his phone, brows furrowed.

“I’m calling an Uber. We’re going home right now.”

There’s an awkward pause where I’m not sure what to say. I can’t see his face, but there’s an odd tension in his back that makes me worried that I’ve upset him. I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, whispering apologetically in his ear.

“Baz, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Baz whips his head to the side and meets my eyes. There’s a dangerous glint in them that never fails to send a thrill down my spine.

“Shut up, Snow. We’re going home right now. You’re drinking a gallon of water and taking two iron supplements. And tomorrow morning, after you consume an entire carton of orange juice, we’re going to do this.”

*

I wake up bright and early, despite our late night, so I can enjoy a leisurely breakfast before Baz wakes up.

When he’s done with his morning routine, we sit down on opposite ends of the bathtub. (Baz refused to do it on the bed, even though my finger would hardly spurt blood all over the sheets.)

He’s wearing my old trackies and shirt, but I’m just in my pants. The porcelain of the tub is chilly. I wouldn’t mind grabbing a jumper, but Baz is so nervous that I think even that could spook him.

He fusses one last time with the gauze and antiseptic bottles he’s set on the shelf, then leans his head back and closes his eyes. His hand fumbles towards mine, and I take it and lace our fingers together.

He nods, and the sudden fullness of his mouth betrays his fangs. Still holding his hand in mine, I shuffle closer, slotting our legs together in the cramped space of the tub. I run my hands up his thighs, and I feel him relax underneath me. His head tips further back onto the bathroom tile, exposing more of his long, pale neck, looking for all the world like he’s about to be ravished by a vampire and not the other way around.

I slip one hand onto his bare stomach, rubbing small circles, and bring the other to cradle his jaw. I part his lips with my thumb, and they fall open into a plush pout that I immediately want to kiss.

I can see his fangs; they’re long and sharp, a brilliant ivory against the dark wetness of his mouth. I’ve always thought they were wicked cool, but I’ve never fully appreciated how much they suit him.

Baz’s breaths are coming faster now that I’ve exposed his fangs. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, rubbing softer against his stomach, hoping to soothe him. When I skate my thumb against one fang and watch the blood rise to the surface and pool on my skin, I’m reminded of the blood magic I did every summer, when I reintroduced myself to my room at Watford. I’m surprised at how much this feels like that, like the bittersweet sting of finally coming home.

BAZ

The smell of cinnamon and bacon floods my senses when Simon cuts his thumb against my fangs. Suddenly, I can’t think of anything else. I’m not achingly thirsty in the same way as when I feed. Instead, I hold his blood against my tongue, savoring the taste. It’s better than cinnamon or bacon. Better than filet mignon, pig’s blood and mint Aeros combined.

I’ve never tried heroin, but I would imagine that’s similar to how it feels to taste Simon Snow’s blood.

When Simon retracts his thumb, I follow with a desperate growl that should make us both afraid. I squeeze my eyes tighter, so that I’m not tempted by the sight of Simon’s showy golden neck and the blood that pulses within it. (That I’ve tasted, and now that I’ve tasted it, how will I ever resist? How can we ever turn back from this?)

“Shh, love. It’s okay.” Simon’s other hand strokes my hair, tugging it softly in the way that makes me melt. Usually, that calms me, but instead my bloodlust sparks brighter.

I stay as still as possible. I’m just strong enough not to take and take and take, but I’m too weak to tell him to stop, even though I know that’s what he should do. Before my greed gets the best of both of us.

He parts my lips again, and this time there’s three fingers bleeding into my mouth. I run my tongue against them, lapping at the blood desperately, then sucking when it’s not enough for me. Simon thrusts his fingers deeper into my mouth, his thumb now stroking the inside of my lip.

I’m utterly overwhelmed. By the smell, and the taste, and the delicious drag of his skin against my tongue. The only thing keeping me from losing myself completely is the coiling pit of shame churning in my core.

I hear a moan - a strained exhale - and my eyes fly open as I jolt my mouth away. Simon’s in pain, I’ve hurt him, I need to stop -

I meet Simon’s eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and his skin is flushed pink all the way down his chest.

“Baz, are you okay? Was it too much for you?”

I scoff. Of course the courageous fool is worried about me, the vampire who has just been drinking his blood, rather than himself. “Are you okay, Snow?”

He blushes. “Very okay. More than okay.” He searches my face for my reaction before continuing. “It hurts, but in a good way. And my hand, it’s tingling and it feels like my whole body is, a bit. But Crowley. Seeing you drink. You’re gorgeous, Baz. You look so good. I feel like I’m a part of you. Like we’re the same.”

Now that Simon’s fingers aren’t filling my mouth with blood anymore, I realize that my fangs have retracted. My body is buzzing with want, but it’s a current even deeper than bloodlust.

I feel satisfied in a way I’ve never felt before. Like I’ve eaten a particularly decadent slice of chocolate cake, one so rich that I couldn’t imagine having more.

“And did you like it, Baz?” Simon pulls me from my thoughts. He’s beaming.

“It was...passable. Maybe if I can’t find a rat sometime -”

Snow pounces, straddling my lap, a whole head taller than me for once.

I laugh. “Simon, that was...the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.”

He breaks out into a grin, the same way he does every time I compliment him, but wider.

“Sod off, Snow, I’m not telling you that your arse looks nice in a suit. I’m telling you that you’re a satisfying meal. You really shouldn’t be happy about that.”

But despite myself, I’m smiling too.

He leans forward and kisses me, and I wonder if he can taste his blood in my mouth, or whether I’ve drowned every last bit of it in my wanting body. And then he deepens our kiss and presses flush against me. I can feel his heart beating against my chest - and I swear I can feel mine, too.

Then I stop thinking about blood at all. Only Simon.

SIMON

I can’t stop thinking about how hot Baz looked when he was drinking my blood. I know there’s a part of it that’s erotic; even Normals have sexy vampire fantasies. And it felt good, a sting that fades into a gentle tingle and runs up your arm. I think if we’d gone on longer, the feeling would have spread to my whole body.

It did spread to a certain part of my body, though. That’s for sure. 

I’ve got Baz pressed back against the bathtub, my hands tangled in his hair. I’m giving the kiss all I’ve got. In the beginning, kissing was a lot like fighting for us. We were both trying to outdo each other with every nip and lick and moan.

These days, it feels even better. All the intensity of our fighting, distilled purely into lust. There’s no competition in the kiss, just raw unmasked desire.

Baz is pushing back against me as if he wants our bodies to merge into one. He’s moaning already and rocking his hips against mine.

I’m already so aroused from the blood drinking that I’m afraid I’m going to come just from this, but I don’t want that. I want Baz to completely fall apart. I want him to look at me like he was moments ago. I want him hungry for this. For us. His hunger sharpened by a lifetime of denying himself.

And I want to be inside of him in more ways than one.

I raise my fingers to Baz’s lips again, this time with the hand that isn’t covered in tiny cuts. I want him to bite me again, so badly, but his fangs aren’t out. Still, I can’t resist pressing my finger into the inviting wetness of his mouth.

“Suck for me, love,” I murmur. “Show me how much you want me.”

Baz lets out the world’s most glorious moan, and my breaths start coming even faster.

He nods and I push my fingers even deeper into his mouth. This time there’s no fangs, just his tongue, but the reminder of what we just did rushes over me nonetheless. I think it’s getting to Baz, too. I can feel saliva dripping down his chin and onto my hand.

I thrust my fingers in and out of his mouth, and he moans around them, his hips sliding closer. It takes all the self-control I’ve got to pull away even though I’m just as desperate for pressure and friction as he is.

“Need to cool down,” I gasp. “Bed - I need to fuck you.”

Baz gets pink around the cheekbones, and I wonder if any of that blood could be mine. The thought makes my heartbeat stutter.

“The latter seems counterproductive to the former, Snow.”

Baz’s snark is undercut a bit by his voice, which has gone soft and raspy. (Baz’s voice is so deep. Deeper since we left Watford, even. I love the sound of it, and the way I can feel it vibrate inside me. Everything about Baz sets my nerves on fire.)

We stumble out of the tub and into the bedroom, Baz much more gracefully than me. He pulls me on top of him in bed, and I kiss him forcefully. He’s trying to get us closer and closer, but I stay on all fours, denying either of us any friction against our throbbing erections.

I feel wrung out in the best possible way from earlier, and I need more than a quick fuck.

I move to kiss Baz’s neck, biting and sucking, rougher than we usually are with each other. When I pinch and twist his nipples, he lets out a low groan.

They’re dark brown and erect - they look delicious. I dip my head down and roll my tongue around one. Baz rewards me with a gasp, so I run my teeth along it.

I bring my other hand to Baz’s firm stomach, stroking the soft dark hairs there. My trackies are far too big on Baz, even with the drawstring pulled tight, and they’ve ridden down nearly enough for me to see what I really want to see.

Baz supports my chest with one arm while quickly undoing the knot on his trackies with the other. Then, I’m pulling them down. He’s not wearing pants, and I nearly come there and then - the thought of Baz hard and wanting against the fabric of my clothes is too much to handle.

Baz’s cock is long and elegant, flushed a pretty pink, and pleasantly rigid under my palm. I’m almost too distracted to pull away when Baz shimmies out of the trackies, but I’ve gotten a foot in the crotch this way before, which really put a damper on things. As soon as they’re off safely, I settle between his legs and lick the pearl of cum forming on his cock. 

I take as much of him as I can into my mouth and bob for a second - enough to get him well and truly riled up - before I leave my hand to that, and tongue down to his bollocks. 

“Fuck, Baz. You have no idea how good you looked, licking my blood,” I groan. I take one of his bollocks in my mouth, pulling gently, using a hand to guide the other into my mouth as well. It’s a fairly complicated maneuver, especially since I’m trying to keep up the rhythm of my hand on his cock, but I’ve got a lot of experience.

I raise my head ever so slightly to tug at his bollocks and make eye contact. Baz is staring at me, panting. When we lock eyes, he moans and throws his head back. “Crowley, Snow. It’s so good. You’re so good to me, love. Always giving me everything I want.”

I give him a last tug in return for the praise and dip my tongue lower. I wrap each hand around his lean thighs and push them towards his chest, and he lets his knees drop toward each side.

I dive in, licking roughly around the pink pucker of his hole, feeling it open up for my tongue as he grinds into my face. Baz grabs my curls and pulls me even deeper into him. He’s so warm and soft here, and I realize I’ve been grinding against the bed the whole time.

There’s a wet spot on the front of my pants. Crowley, I haven’t been so close to coming in my pants for ages.

I shove them all the way down before I can embarrass myself by doing exactly that, and crawl back up towards Baz’s mouth, rubbing my cock against his lips.

He drops them open but doesn’t move otherwise. I feel his cool breath against my cock as he chuckles. “Nice try, Snow. I’m not sucking your cock when you’re already so worked up.”

I push my cock against the smirk on his lips, marveling that I wasted so many opportunities at Watford to wipe the smugness off his face just like this. “Why don’t you want me worked up, Baz?”

He sits up on his elbows, his eyes leaving my cock to lock on my gaze, full of challenge. “Because, Snow, I’m going to need you to fuck me. Long and hard. Sure you can manage?”

I growl and crash my lips into his. I can’t stop smiling, even though the kiss is getting progressively nastier. “I love it when you’re being a tosser.”

Baz smacks my arse and I jump.

“Good, because it’s my default state. Kindly carry on, Simon.”

I kiss him again, while reaching into the nightstand for the bottle of lube. I make my way down the bed to settle again between his legs and warm a bit of the lube between my fingers. Baz likes me to have just enough to slide myself into him, but not so much that he can’t properly feel the friction between us. He’s a picky bloke, but I’ve had time to practice.

I start with one finger, and his arse swallows it greedily, so I pull out enough to add another. I press up and crook my fingers slightly - and then his breaths come out in soft huffs as he rocks himself back and forth against me. When I add a third finger, and he clenches around me, thrusting needily.

“Goddamn it, Snow. We’re not blushing virgins. Fuck me, now.”

Just for that, I pull my fingers out with agonizing slowness. Baz rolls his eyes,and I can read the anticipation he’s hiding behind exasperation. I’m aching, too; I’ve been hard since the first moment his fangs pierced my thumb, and my want is curling desperately inside of me.

I don’t need to be told twice. Baz plants his feet on either side of me as I lube my cock and guide it into him.

Merlin and Morgana. I’ve been inside of Baz too many times to count, but the intense tightness of him shocks me every time.

I advance slowly until I’m buried all the way, and Baz is a whimpering, desperate mess below me. “Fuck, Snow. Feels so good. So full.”

I take that as my cue to slide back and thrust into him, a little faster than before, speeding up with each thrust as soon as I can tell he’s okay, until he’s moaning in ecstasy and I’m not much quieter myself.

His hair is sweaty and sticking against him, long having lost it propriety and been mussed into waves. His eyes are closed now, and his lips turned a bit downwards into an aristocratic pout, his lips vibrating with every moan. I can’t resist anymore, and I lean down to kiss him, pushing my cock in deeper and changing the angle ever so slightly. Baz’s eyes fly open before I’ve kissed him, and he throws his head further back. “Merlin - yes - fuck - Simon…”

I know I’m not likely to last much longer, not with myself buried so deep and Baz so warm and tight around me, making noises that should honestly be illegal.

I wrap a hand around Baz’s cock, grinding my hips into him, into the spot that made him moan my first name. In return, he grabs my shoulders, runs his hands down my arms, and holds on to them, using the leverage to push me deeper inside him and fuck his cock into my hand.

I feel him stiffen ever so slightly, before he’s spilling onto the both of us. He tightens so exquisitely around me that it’s almost painful with how much I need to come.

I lean down to lick his chest where his cum is sticking, thrusting faster now. Baz moans at the sight, his hands tangling roughly in my hair. I can feel him clenching rhythmically around me, trying to push me faster over the edge.

“Come for me, love. You’re so good. I love you so much. I want you to come inside me, Simon.”

That’s enough for the pressure building in me to relieve intensely, washing over me in waves that seem to last an eternity. I think I see stars. Baz pulls me down towards him and kisses me gently, my cock still inside him. He wipes the sweat from my brow, kisses the side of my neck on my favourite mole. 

“I love you,” he says, and that’s embarrassingly all it takes for me to come.

I feel a bit lightheaded, after. Baz makes me drink more juice, because he says I’ve sweated away more of my water.

“How was it?” I ask.

“You know how it was,” he says. “No need to fish for compliments.”

“I’m just assessing how soon you’re ready to do it again.”

Baz pauses, and then buries his face in my shoulder, taking a deep breath. I shiver.

“Now that I’ve tasted you, love, I won’t be able to resist.”

His voice is wistful, but it still sends a spark of lust down my spine.

“Alright. Well, I’ve got to get on my dark leafy greens, then.”

“To think this is all to took for you to start eating healthily.”

“I’ve got to make sure my blood is nutritious. I’m eating for two now.”

He rolls his eyes, and I get out of bed, tugging him along with me. “C’mon. I’ll make us kale smoothies.”

He grins. “You’re really making the case for us to do this more often.”

I smirk. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Say hi on [tumblr](http://im-gettingby.tumblr.com)!


End file.
